You-Know-Boo
by hermionebunny
Summary: After death, does Voldemort choose hell or ghosthood? Ghosthood, of course. What does his ghost want most? To hurt Harry, of course. How best to do this? Through Ginny, of course.
1. Yes

Because he had slain the Dark Lord less than 24 hours ago, Harry Potter should have fallen asleep with ease. Nevertheless, he tossed and turned in Ron's spare bed. He felt troubled, as if a cold deadness were hanging over him.

Then he realized: a cold deadness _was_ hanging over him.

The ghost hovered above the bed, leering down at Harry. Its thin lips twisted into a smirk. It emitted a high, cold laugh.

"No," Harry groaned, burying his head under his pillow.

"Yes," cackled Voldemort.

…

_It was a nightmare,_ Harry told himself as he woke the next morning.

_A hallucination_, he insisted to himself as he and Ron clambered down the Burrow stairs.

_It never happened_, Harry decided as they sat down to breakfast with Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Percy, George, and Ginny.

Ginny. Harry's worries melted away under her blazing gaze. How ravishing she looked, even garbed in a black gown of mourning.

"Let's meet in the gardens," Harry mouthed to her.

Ginny nodded, her scarlet ponytail bobbing.

After breakfast, Harry and Ginny stood face-to-face in the overgrown garden behind the Burrow.

"Harry," Ginny murmured, "you did it. You finally killed him."

Harry bowed his head. "Not without a price," he replied.

Silence stretched between them as they remembered Fred and the others.

Ginny broke the silence. "Harry, they're watching over us," she whispered, tears moistening her eyes. "They're watching over us from the next world, the better world."

Harry nodded mutely, blinking back his own tears for fear of their non-masculinity.

Again, a gaping silence ensued.

Harry grabbed Ginny's shoulders. "Right before Voldemort hit me with the Avada Kedavra curse, I thought of you," he said hoarsely.

Ginny half-smiled through her tears. "I'm honored that the famous Potter remembered me."

Harry shook her gently. "Don't talk like that," he choked. "Ginny, I love you."

Ginny's eyes widened with revulsion.

Harry froze- did Ginny not love him back? Then he realized that Ginny was staring at a point _behind_ him.

"Love?" hissed a high, cold voice. "That oh-so-powerful weapon that killed me?"

Harry spun 180 degrees, just in time to glimpse the silver specter zipping away. He released Ginny and sprinted after it.

"I'll be back, Gin," he called over his shoulder. "First, I have to settle matters with Voldemort."

…

**AN: Let's end this chapter with a poem:**

_**Harry Potter,**_** as you've known,**

**Is a series Rowling owns.**

**Be a darling and review,**

**Then stay tuned for Chapter Two.**


	2. Your Dear Old Tom

Harry jogged after the wisp of silvery of ectoplasm ahead of him. Voldemort floated tantalizingly near, darting out of reach whenever Harry grabbed at him. Not that grabbing Voldemort would do any good- Harry's fist would only close around thin air.

"Why the hell are you here," Harry panted.

Voldemort made a loop-de-loop in front of him, then hovered in place. "A bit anxious, aren't we, Potter?" he sneered.

Harry skidded to a halt in front of Voldemort. "Get out of here!" he yelled. "Go to the afterlife, or wherever you guys go."

"Do you think I'd go to Heaven or Hell?" Voldemort inquired, leering.

"Do you seriously need to ask?" Harry hissed. "HELL, OBVIOUSLY!"

Voldemort nodded his translucent head. "I quite agree, Potter. And who would want Hell? I, for one, would choose to be a ghost."

"Whatever," Harry snapped. "Just leave me and my friends alone."

"You killed me," Voldemort said, shaking a reproachful finger at Harry. "Why would I leave you alone?"

"You can't use magic anymore, but I can," Harry retorted. "I could hex you."

"Ooh, scary," Voldemort cackled. He began to drift backwards, waving a pale arm at Harry.

"You ruined seventeen years of my life," Harry bellowed at his retreating figure. "I won't play your games anymore."

"I don't doubt that," Voldemort said, too quietly for Harry to hear. "But your little girlfriend might."

…

That evening, Ginny sat on her bed, legs dangling from the mattress. She absentmindedly twirled a lock of red hair around her finger. Her cheeks blazed a scarlet that rivaled her hair.

_Harry said he loves me. _The thought reverberated through her mind.

Another thought pushed the first away: _Voldemort became a ghost._

The first thought fought its way back to the forefront: _Harry said he loves me._

Ginny buried her head in her chest. "What do I say back?" she moaned to herself.

"That depends," said a voice beside her, "on whether you love him or not."  
"I love him," Ginny wailed, head still buried. "But I can't bring myself to say it. I'm shy with that sort of thing."

The voice snickered.

Ginny's head shot from her arms. _Stupid Ginny,_ she rebuked herself. _Can't you at least notice people when they talk?_

She spun toward the ghost of Voldemort, who was perched on the bed beside her.

"Spaced out, as always," Voldemort chuckled. "Long time no see, Ginny."

Ginny shrieked, grabbed a pillow, and hurled it at Voldemort. The frilly white pillow passed straight through the ghost, leaving him unscathed.

Voldemort howled with laughter. "You haven't lost your fiery energy, have you?"

Ginny glared at him, honey brown eyes burning. Scrutinizing the ghost, she realized that he resembled Tom Riddle more closely than Voldemort. The silver eyes were not yet slits. The nose retained a graceful arch. The long face appeared young still, perhaps Ginny's own age.

Ginny shook away these trifling observations. "Go away," she spat at Voldemort. "You'll drive Harry crazy."

"Harry this, Harry that," sighed Voldemort. "Can't you spare any thought for your dear old Tom?"

Ginny shuddered. Toward the end of her second year at Hogwarts, she had read the very same words in Tom Riddle's diary.

"I did before, and it was a mistake," Ginny growled. "I'll never trust you again, Tom."

"You called me Tom," Voldemort exclaimed gleefully. "That means we can discard formalities, right?"

"Er, um, that is, _no_," Ginny spluttered. "I just, well-"

"Ginny?" called Mrs. Weasley from behind the door. "What's all the commotion?"  
Voldemort zipped to the window, turned briefly to wink at Ginny, and flew through the glass until he was out of sight.


	3. A Birthday Surprise

July 31st. Harry's birthday. He, Hermione, and the Weasleys sat around the dining table eating dinner: steak and mashed potatoes.

"So you're resuming Hogwarts this year with Ron and Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked Harry, who sat beside him.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'll finally get to graduate this spring."

From across the table, Hermione nodded vigorously. "I've fallen so behind on studying," she moaned. "There's a mountainload of catching up to do."

Ron patted Hermione on the shoulder. "You'll be able to, now that we don't have to deal with the darkest wizard of all time," he reassured her with a wry grin.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. Neither had informed anyone of Voldemort's reemergence, not even Ron or Hermione. The ghost had only appeared that day after his death. Since nearly two months had passed without further news of him, Harry and Ginny hoped there would be no need to mention him. Why worry everyone after they finally had reason to celebrate?  
The lights flickered off, and the room went dark. Mrs. Weasley strode in carrying a cake. Eighteen candles illuminated her elated visage.

Everybody except Harry began to sing.

"_Happy birthday to you, _

_Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday, dear Harry,_

_Happy birthday to-"_

"BOO!" interrupted a high, cold voice.

Voldemort zoomed across the table toward Harry. His body passed straight through Mrs. Weasley's cake, blowing out the candles like a chilly gust of wind.

"Who is it?" demanded Mrs. Weasley, clicking the light switch.

As everyone's eyes adjusted to the brightness and settled on the ghost, mouths fell open. Forks clattered to the floor. Butterbeer spilled from goblets. Plates fell from paralyzed hands, shattering.

"Y-You-Know-Who?" shrieked Hermione.

"Pleasure to see you, Granger," cackled Voldemort.

Ron pointed his fork at Voldemort, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"Ronald is speechless with delight about my presence," interpreted Voldemort.

"I told you to _stay away,_" Harry hissed. "You don't have a morsel of honor, do you?"  
"You can't say you can't play," Voldemort retorted.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley simultaneously pointed their wands at Voldemort. "_Avada Kedavra_," they shouted in unison.

"No use," chortled the ghost. "You can't kill someone who's already dead."

Tears had welled up in Ginny's eyes. "Go away," she wailed.

Voldemort raised his dark silver eyebrows at Ginny. "How painful to be spurned by such a lovely girl," he sighed. "But I shall depart, if you so desire."

He floated toward the wall, shoulders slumped.

Everyone shot surprised glances at Ginny, who appeared equally shocked.

Voldemort locked eyes with Ginny. "See you at Hogwarts," he whispered, so that only she could hear.

Ginny blanched.

Voldemort disappeared through the wall.

Everyone began to clap.

"Great work Ginny," George cheered. "For some reason, the Dark Lord obeys only you. Now let's eat that cake."

When Mrs. Weasley began to pass out plates, Ginny declined, having lost her appetite. Voldemort's words _see you at Hogwarts_ rang through her mind.

He couldn't be joining them for seventh year, could he...?

...

A month later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny strolled toward the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"It's so nice to be back," Hermione intoned, blinking back tears of joy.

"Yeah," said Ron, "but it's weird that we're behind a year. I can't stand being in the same grade as Ginny."  
"Well, sorry I'm such a bother," Ginny snapped.

"_I_ don't think you're a bother," Harry put in.

Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair. She and Harry had barely spoken since his confession of love. She knew he was waiting for her response, but she could not shake away her shyness.

The quartet strolled passed a line of Hogwarts ghosts.

From the front of the line, Nearly Headless Nick waved at them. "Very nice to have you four back," he said, beaming. "The more representation for Gryffindor, the better."

The Gray Lady smiled at Harry from behind Nick. "Good work finding the lost diadem," she told Harry.

Behind the Gray Lady, the Fat Friar nodded amiably.

The Bloody Barron merely grunted.

A fifth ghost drifted at the back of the line. At the sight of him, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny dropped their suitcases.

"Let's have a special year together," cackled Voldemort.

...

**AN: And that's the end of chapter three. Things should get more serious from now on...drumroll.**

**Thanks so far for the reviews. In response to Treavellergirl, I think a poltergeist is basically a loud, noisy ghost who can move things (like Peeves).**

**More reviews would be appreciated; stay tuned for Chapter Four!**


	4. Sugar Cookies

_Tom's at Hogwarts. _The thought sent a shudder through Ginny's spine. What could he be plotting right now, as she lay in her four-poster bed?

After the appearance of Voldemort, the first day at Hogwarts had passed in a blur. Ginny had not tasted the feast in the Great Hall. Dumbledore's speech had sounded like gibberish (even more than it generally did).

Her roommates had fallen asleep. Ginny rolled over in bed.

"Tom can't do anything," she whispered to herself. "Ghosts are harmless."

"Think so?" cackled a high, cold voice above her.

By now, Ginny was barely startled. "Go away," she hissed without glancing up. "Even if you're dead, it's ignoble to enter a girls' dorm. Not that you've ever been noble."

"But I used to always be in your dorm," Voldemort pointed out. "You kept my diary here, and I was inside it."  
"That's different," Ginny snapped, curling into a ball under her blanket. "Go away and let me sleep. Aren't you more concerned with Harry?"

"Nooo," said Voldemort. "I'm more concerned with _you_."

Ginny snorted into her mattress. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," Voldemort cried.

"Why, may I ask?" Ginny muttered.

"I just have a teensy request," Voldemort replied tentatively. "Could you please hear me out?"

Scowling, Ginny gave a curt nod.

...

Several weeks later, Harry strolled the Hogwarts grounds with Ron and Hermione. Sunlight dappled the red, orange, and golden leaves of the surrounding trees.

"You-Know-Who's been awfully quiet," Ron remarked cheerfully.

"Hasn't appeared since the first day of school," Hermione agreed, pursing her lips. "We should stay alert, though."

"I've barely seen Ginny, either," Harry commented, attempting a casual tone. "Where's she been?"  
"Dunno." Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you, by any chance, _still _interested in my sister?"

"Er," mumbled Harry, reddening.

Just then, Ginny bounded toward them. "Here are some cookies," she trilled. "Baked them myself. Want some?" She held out a plate of sugar cookies.

"Thanks, Ginny," said Harry, reaching for one.

Ginny shot a perplexed glance at him. "But I heard from T- I mean, one of your fans told me you don't like sugar cookies."

"I love them," said Harry, frowning.

"But, Ginny," began Hermione, "why would you offer Harry something you know he doesn't like?"

"It was a request from T- _no._ What I mean to say is, I was testing Harry's love for me." Ginny blushed scarlet, realizing she had given an excuse worse than the truth.

Harry emitted a disbelieving snort. "That's how you see our relationship?" he demanded. "Do you have zero trust for me? I haven't looked at another girl since we dated last year."

Ginny surveyed the dead grass at her feet.

Harry spun on his heel and stalked away. Hermione and Ron followed suit. "Find another guy, sis," Ron called over his shoulder.

A tear dripped onto the cookie plate. _Why did I obey Tom?_ Ginny thought.

_Because I thought no harm could come of it, _she replied to herself. She had truly baked the cookies herself. Therefore, she had known they were not poisoned or cursed. She had assumed that Tom wanted her to irritate Harry by offering a food he disliked.

But apparently, Harry liked sugar cookies. So what had Tom been plotting?

"That's the true nature of Potter," hissed Voldemort's voice behind her. "A fickle youth who would spurn his girl after one slip of words."

Ginny hurled the plate of cookies at the ghost. Of course, it passed right through him. The cookies crumbled when they hit the ground, mingling with the dead leaves.

"Why did you make me do that?" she shouted. "It had no merit for you."

"Yes, it did," said Voldemort. "It showed you how faithless Potter is. In comparison to a guy like me-"

Ginny laughed sharply. "Are you suggesting that you're a better guy than Potter?"

The ghost pursed his lips. "Maybe not in action, but in communication-"

Ginny clutched her side, howling with laughter. "I don't even know what to say," she choked.

"See?" Voldemort exclaimed. "Potter made you cry, while I made you laugh." The ghost smiled, dark silver dimples carving themselves in his angular face.  
Ginny abruptly reverted to her livid scowl. "Stop joking around. Whether or not you're alive, no one will forget that you're a despicable, abhorrent, abominable-"

"You're speaking redundantly," Voldemort interrupted.

"Oh my God," said Ginny. "I'm done with you."

She walked away, in the opposite direction from that of Harry's trio.

Voldemort smirked.

...

**AN: If you guys aren't ghosts, your hands should be capable typing things. Like reviews. Not hinting at anything...:)**


	5. Thanksgiving

Harry fell to his knees. Passersby on the sidewalk raised eyebrows at him. Indifferent to their judgment, Harry wailed, "Why did I blow up at Ginny?"

"You gotta control your temper, mate," said Ron.

Harry moaned, curling into a ball of remorse.

Hermione squatted beside Harry. "It's understandable," she said soothingly, glaring at Ron. "Ginny told you she's 'testing your love' for her. That would upset anyone.

"Just apologize to Ginny. Everything will be fine."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'll apologize tomorrow."

...

But the next day, his courage failed him. He did not apologize.

...

September passed, and he still could not muster the bravery to confront Ginny.

...

October passed.

...

November.

...

The longer Harry ignored Ginny, the more miserable Ginny became. By the evening of Thanksgiving, she curled up in bed, refusing to leave. She, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had returned to the Burrow for Thanksgiving vacation.

A knock sounded on the door. "Are you sure you don't want dinner, dear?" called Mrs. Weasley. "I cooked all of your favorite foods."

_I don't not want to eat; I don't want to eat with Harry_, Ginny thought, stomach grumbling. But she replied resolutely, "I don't feel good, Mom. Can you bring me some food later?"

"Of course, dear," yelled Mrs. Weasley, sounding worried. The sound of her footsteps died away.

Memories surged into Ginny's mind: Harry kissing her after that Quidditch triumph, Harry strolling the Hogwarts grounds with her, Harry telling her he loved her, Harry's subsequent silent treatment...

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to suppress the memories.

"If it's any comfort, you'll get food in a few hours," said a high, cold voice above her. "I, as a ghost, can never eat again."

"I can't believe you followed us from Hogwarts," Ginny sighed. "You know, you don't even startle me anymore."

"Good," said Voldemort. "I'm glad you're growing comfortable with me."

Ginny cocooned herself in the blanket from head to toe. "Whatever. I'm done trying to reason with you."

"Sooo," said Voldemort, "Potter's still ignoring you, huh."

"I'm done listening to you," Ginny grumbled.

"The boy defeated the almighty me, then can't even face his girl?" Voldemort continued. "What a downgrade."

Ginny pressed her fingers over her ears. "Not listening, not listening," she chanted.

"Will you leave you and Potter's relationship like this?" Voldemort taunted.

Ginny threw off her blanket, sat bolt upright, and glared at the ghost. "What else can I do?" she snapped.

"Ooh, many things," mused Voldemort. "I know a method to determine Potter's true feelings for you."

"No way I'm listening," Ginny snapped. "Look what happened after you lied about the cookies."

"But this is the perfect way," Voldemort protested. "It will work Harry up for sure."

"Not listening," Ginny repeated.

"How unfortunate," Voldemort lamented, shimmery eyes downcast. "It would have settled things once and for all."

Ginny clenched her fists. "Not. Listening."

"If Harry loves you, this method would reveal it for sure," Voldemort added. "Oh well. I have to head off."  
He slowly drifted toward the window. Half of his body disappeared through it.

"Wait," said Ginny through gritted teeth. "What's the method?"

...

Several weeks later, Harry was reading the _Daily Prophet _in the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione ate breakfast on either side of him.

"Is Ginny okay?" Ron wondered aloud. "I haven't seen her since Thanksgiving."

"She's probably fine," Hermione reassured him. "The school would report any problems."

Hedwig swooped toward Harry, disrupting the conversation. She landed on his shoulder.

Harry extricated a letter from Hedwig's talons. He folded it open and read its contents:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It may have come to your attention that Ginny is missing. "Where is she?" you may wonder._

_Hint: Remember that in your second year, I brought her to the Chamber of Secrets._

_Just saying. Well, enjoy your breakfast._

_-You-Know-Boo_

Harry jumped from his chair.

"Where're you going?" said Ron between mouthfuls of toast.

"Chamber of Secrets," said Harry. "I'll be back in a sec."


	6. Deception

Harry sprinted to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was concealed. The decrepit stalls and rusted sinks looked exactly as Harry remembered.

Moaning Myrtle was sobbing more loudly than usual. "Stupid Tom," she wailed. "Stupid, stupid Tom Riddle."

Harry skidded to a halt. "Moaning Myrtle, did you see Voldemort?" he demanded. "What did he do?"

"Yeah, we used to be schoolmates," Moaning Myrtle sobbed. "Imagine my surprise when I saw him right here. He looked just as handsome as a ghost. So I-I"

"What did you do?" Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently.

Moaning Myrtle's next words were barely audible through her sobs. "I-I asked him out. And he said no."

At this point, Moaning Myrtle collapsed into a moaning heap. Without another glance at her, Harry rushed toward the sink.

How had he been so stupid? He had assumed Moaning Myrtle had valuable information about Voldemort's whereabouts, not her romantic endeavors. During the time he had wasted here, Ginny may have perished in the Chamber.

Harry glared at the snake emblem on one of the sinks. "Open," he hissed.

The snake slid away to reveal a passage. Harry dove through it. _I never thought I'd have to do this again,_ he thought to himself, a hint regretfully.

Above the entrance to the passage, a security camera glinted.

…

Back in the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione examined the letter left on the table.

Ron's fork clattered to the floor. "Ginny," he whispered, face white.

"Don't trust the letter," Hermione snapped. "A ghost couldn't kidnap a witch. There's no way-ghosts are insubstantial. Even if they were the darkest wizards of all time."

"But he might've had accomplices," Ron protested. "Aren't you the least bit worried about my sister?"

"Ron, get a hold of yourself," said Hermione. "There's no one who'd help Voldemort now. There's advantage, not even for his supporters. Now look carefully at the letter. Is there anything strange about it."

Ron squinted at the letter, as though the words pained his eyes. Then his mouth dropped open. "Wait," he gasped. "That's Ginny's handwriting."

"Worse than I imagined," Hermione sighed. "What a fox."

"What are we waiting for?" Ron jumped from his seat. "We have to tell Harry."

Hermione followed suit. Together, they raced toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

…

In the Gryffindor girls' dorm, Ginny and Voldemort watched TV. On the screen, Harry dove through the sink.

Tears moistened Ginny's eyes. "He really went," she murmured. "I was wrong about him."  
"He loved you after all," Voldemort cackled. "That idiot would do anything to save you."

Ginny turned to Voldemort. "Thanks for your help."

Was it Ginny's imagination, or did Voldemort's silver eye glint red for an instant?

"I did nothing, nothing at all," the ghost whispered. "You wrote the letter. You set up the camera. I only lent some friendly advice."

"True, I guess," Ginny laughed. "Now I'll go tell Harry I'm all right."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that." Voldemort's voice sounded far away.

"Why?" Ginny demanded sharply.

Voldemort leered, handsome face contorting into the monstrosity of his adult years. "There's nothing you can do, Ginny Weasley," he said. "Harry Potter will soon perish."


End file.
